


Psych

by VioletHorizons



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Daniel isn't back yet tho, Dom/sub, F/M, Jonas-centric, Post Season 6, Self-Indulgent, Sex Pollen, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Unresolved Sexual Tension, sub!Jonas
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:48:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27009871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VioletHorizons/pseuds/VioletHorizons
Summary: Jonas carves out a space for himself in the SGC. The new psychiatrist seems intent to carve out a space for herself as well, even if it means driving Jonas completely insane in the process. Stargate SG-1 - Post Season 6 - Jonas Quinn x OFC. This is shaping up to be straight up self-indulgent pornography, ye be warned.
Relationships: Jonas Quinn/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 5





	1. Meetings

Jonas slid the last heavy tome into the rickety military grade bookshelf that lined the back wall of his new office.

He’d recently moved his equipment and documents to a different room, one that felt less like he was only borrowing the space until its actual owner returned. His previous office - Daniel Jackson’s office - was certainly well-equipped, and larger, and closer to the cafeteria, and didn’t have a terrible musty smell that clung to his clothing long after he left the room, but it just wasn’t his. He’d been trying to make it his own for months now, but no matter how many potted plants he added or books from his personal library he shoved in the shelves, he still felt like an interloper. Not even Archimedes, his spoiled beta fish, could help make him feel at home. Daniel had carved out a very Daniel-shaped space for himself in SG-1, and that space didn’t quite fit Jonas.

He had hoped that moving his workspace to a different room would help him feel less, well, _alien_ , but so far all it had done was give him a front row seat to the office of a woman Colonel O'Neill had referred to as "the new shrink". She’d moved in just a week before he’d relocated his things, and from what he had unwillingly eavesdropped while setting up his office she wasn’t enjoying picking up where her predecessor left off. He’d been cleaning up the shards of a photo frame that had been damaged in the move when her raised voice filtered through his musings on where he could find a replacement.

“Listen, Janet, this is absolutely ridiculous. I’ve been reading some of these old mission reports, and I’m telling you - literally everyone here needs therapy. Everyone _._ I have no idea what Dr. Mackenzie was doing here outside of collecting a paycheck. At least 14 members of active SG teams should be recalled immediately. They put Thomalson back in the field a week after the rest of his team was murdered in front of him by replicators? The guy should be sipping daiquiris and knocking back valium in Mexico while we confirm his condition. I’m going to need to hire an aide at this point just to get everyone on base caught up on their evals!”

When Jonas looked up to find the source of the irritated ranting he met Dr. Frasier’s eyes. She was standing just inside the new doctor's office door. Janet smiled apologetically at Jonas before stepping inside and shutting the door. He got back to scraping up glass to the muted sounds of Janet’s soothing tone as she helped the new psych get settled into her role.

He heard her again a week later while he was going over some primitive navigation devices found by SG-13 that they reported potentially came from an advanced alien race. Apparently the natives on P3X-734 were “too prehistoric” to have made the requisite scientific connections on their own. Jonas had come to the conclusion that SG-13 was comprised of idiots who thought anything more advanced than a clay pot must be alien in origin. He was trying to figure out a way to phrase that politely in his report when the new psych - Dr. Roberts, he’d learned her name from the plate on her door - strode past his office with a stack of papers in her hands and Janet in tow.

“Jesus, Janet, look at this-- he cleared Teal’c for duty after literal _brainwashing_ by a Goa’uld System Lord because, and I quote, ‘Subject seems normal and eager to return to duty. No aberrant behavior noted.’ Aberrant behavior compared to what, exactly? He’d met with Teal’c _twice_ prior to this, and one of those was a half hour introductory session where it looks like he mapped out Teal’c’s family tree but got distracted halfway through and the rest of his notes are just doodles of the symbol on his forehead. I’ve seen the guy, they’re not even good doodles!” 

Janet ushered Dr. Roberts into her office, and soon the office door muffled most of her irritated ranting. Jonas absently doodled Apophis’s symbol on his notes before scribbling it out. For a moment he considered keeping his office door shut to prevent distractions, but quickly determined that the entertainment value far outweighed the cost in concentration. 

“Maybe I need to get out more, Archimedes,” he said to the beta fish peeking out from within the aquarium plants in his 10 gallon tank. “Get some fresh air. See a sunrise.” 

Archimedes darted back into the safety of his plants. “Well. That figures. Snubbed by a fish.” Jonas sighed and returned to his report. He really did need to get out more. 

***

The next time Jonas saw Dr. Roberts, she was shining a penlight into his eye with one hand while the other gently held back the lid. He jerked backwards, disoriented. 

“Easy there, you took one hell of a spill getting back from that planet. You’ve got a head injury and I need to gauge the severity. Relax. Can you tell me your name?”

Jonas slowly laid back down on the gurney, cataloging his injuries. “Jonas Quinn,” he said, gingerly examining his sore ribs. “How long was I out for?”

Dr. Roberts tilted his head to examine the wound bleeding sluggishly just above his ear. “Only a few moments. Any nausea? I’m Dr. Roberts, by the way.”

“I know,” said Jonas. Dr. Robert’s eyes flicked away from his wound to look him in the eyes, clearly puzzled. “I, uh, share a hallway with your office,” he explained awkwardly. “No nausea.”

“Huh,” Dr. Roberts said, returning to her examination of his wound. She started cleaning the area, dabbing it with gauze soaked in a foul-smelling antiseptic that made him wince. “I don’t think I realized anybody was using that room. I was told it was storage when I arrived. How’s the feeling in your extremities? Any numbness?”  
  
Jonas flexed experimentally. “No numbness. My ribs are a bit sore, though. I think one might be broken, left side. That room was storage originally; I just moved in. I’m not surprised you haven’t seen me - mostly I’ve just seen you.”

Dr. Roberts blinked at him, bemused, before finishing up the bandage she was wrapping around his head. 

“Not like that!” he said, panicked. She moved on to examining his rib cage, listening patiently. “I just heard you, a few times. Talking to Janet. It wasn’t on purpose! I just like to keep the door cracked for airflow. It can get pretty musty in there- ouch!” She’d found the painful rib.

“Hm. Can you take a deep breath for me?” He obeyed, thankful for a reason to shut up. “Any additional pain?” He shook his head. “Good. I think it’s just bruised. Badly, but it should heal up on its own. I’ll see about getting you pain meds, and you’re going to be on bed rest for a few days. I’d also like to talk with Janet about getting some imaging on your head. It looks like you might have a concussion at worst, but I know you’ve had a recent surgery and I want to make sure everything’s good up there.” She beamed at him. He grinned back weakly, dazed. “And I’m sorry about the noise outside your office door. No wonder Janet’s always telling me I’m a HIPAA violation waiting to happen. I’ll try and keep it down from now on. You -” she said, grabbing a nearby nurse. “Work with him on his pain, get him some meds to keep it down. I’ll let you finish up here.” 

Jonas started to protest weakly that it was really no trouble, but Dr. Roberts had already moved on to another patient.

***

Several weeks later, after he’d healed up and returned to active duty, Jonas caught Dr. Roberts in the dining hall. She was sitting at a table in the corner, spoon swirling idly through a puddle of what looked like it was once Jell-O while she read from the comically large book that she had propped up next to her tray. 

“Hey,” he said, putting his tray down across from hers. “Mind if I sit here?”  
  
She looked up briefly, nodded, and returned to her book. He settled down with his tray and dug in quietly, not keen to interrupt her again. While she was distracted by the book, he took a moment to catalogue her features. Dark brows he now knew she arched expressively when she talked set over gray green eyes with long lashes. A nose that was slightly wide at the tip, and lips with a deep philtrum giving her a pronounced cupids bow. She had a freckle under her left eye and another on her right cheek, and a strong jawline. Wisps of hair framed her face, escapees from the tight military bun she wore at the base of her neck. _She’s pretty,_ he realized. _Really pretty._ He’d been distracted before by the pain in his head and rib cage.

“It’s rude to stare,” Dr. Roberts said dryly without looking up from her book. Jonas blinked, startled. 

“I just wanted to thank you. For, um,” Jonas gestured to his head intelligently. “For your help. I didn’t think Earth psychologists were taught medical triage.” 

Now she did look up from her book. “They aren’t. I’m a psychiatrist. Four years of medical school, five years of residency. Specialists wear a lot of hats around here, given the matter of national security. I agreed when I signed on to help Janet out when there was a sudden influx of patients. We only have so many medical personnel to go around.” 

Jonas nodded. “I know the feeling. I’ve been roped in as an archaeologist _cum_ linguist _cum_ ethicist for my team. It can be exhausting sometimes, and I usually don’t even have people’s lives in my hands. Thank you for your care, Dr. Roberts.”

Dr. Roberts flapped a hand dismissively. “Just doing my job. It’s Daisy, by the way.” 

“Well, it’s nice to formally meet you, Daisy. I’m Jonas.”

“I know,” Daisy said cheekily. “I share a hallway with your office.” She smiled at him, and he grinned back, a bit dazed. Daisy stood, packing up her tray and tucking her book under her arm. “I’ll catch you around, Jonas.” she said. “We’re hallway mates, after all.” She turned and left, dropping her tray in the return conveyor on her way out. Jonas noticed that the huge book she’d been reading peaking out from under her elbow. He was running out of books he hadn’t read. Maybe he’d ask to ask to peruse her library sometime. He returned to his bland oatmeal, pensive. 

***

Jonas’s mind was wandering as he doodled idly on the handouts Major Carter had provided for the briefing. His gift for speed reading meant that he was often finished digesting the briefing information within five minutes of the start of the meeting.

P3X-844 was meant to be a benign planet. Drone footage had revealed that it was inhabited by a matriarchal warrior race that kept far away from the gate. The soil samples returned by the MALP were promising, showing similar mineral content and pH levels indicative of precious naquadah deposits. A wider sample was required, so onto the planet they’d go, armed with soil probes and core samplers. A walk in the park. Practically a vacation. He’d be bored out of his mind.

His attention was drawn sharply back to the briefing as Sam wrapped up her presentation. “Of course, we’ll have to train up Dr. Roberts for basic field work, but this should be a perfect first mission for her. Dr. Frasier will accompany us as well.”

Jonas looked up from his crude doodle of a zat. “Sorry, what?”

Major Carter’s eyes tightened, clearly realizing he hadn’t been paying attention. “As I was saying earlier,” she said, with thinly veiled impatience, “we’ve been observing the locals. Their society is strictly matriarchal, with gender roles mapped out as strictly as Simarka, only with the roles neatly reversed. General Hammond and I have determined that a majority male SG team would be met with hostility if we ended up encountering the locals. We’re also interested in the physiology of the locals. Their endurance is deeply impressive, and some of the pictographic ruins on the planet indicate something about their biology naturally repelled the Goa’uld parasitic control of their hosts. That matches with what Teal’c has reported...” The Jaffa inclined his head gravely at the mention of his name. “...that this address was on a list of uninhabitable worlds that Jaffa were not to go to. We think that Dr. Roberts and Dr. Frasier would be ideal candidates for convincing them to allow us to take blood samples and perform physicals after we make first contact. Both of them are currently going through training on proper soil sample collection processes, and Dr. Roberts will need basic combat training and marksmanship that Janet has already taken. Once she’s up to speed, you, me, Dr Frasier, and Dr. Roberts will make the first trip out to P3X-844. The colonel and Teal’c will follow in later trips. 

Jonas’ eyebrows furrowed. “Why me? Shouldn’t O’Neill be out with you all instead as the senior officer?”

Sam looked slightly uncomfortable. “When we were selecting the team members, we were focusing on putting together a team that would be non-threatening to the locals. We were worried that Colonel O’Neill and Teal’c would be.”

Jonas filled in the blanks. “Excuse me,” he said, hotly, “I can be plenty imposing!” 

Sam had raised her hands in a placating gesture when she was interrupted by Colonel O’Neill snickering. 

“Sure ya are, buddy,” he said, false sincerity dripping from his tone. “Plenty imposing. Ya know, there’s no shame in being in touch with your feminine side, Jonas. Now, if you’ll excuse us, Teal’c and I have a very manly fishing trip to plan, with all this masculine free time we have coming up.” O’Neill clapped a suddenly panicked Teal’c on the shoulder. “C’mon, buddy, I can hear the bass calling our names right now.” 

Jonas sputtered as O’Neill led Teal’c from the room, the sound of Teal’c’s protests against fishing and O’Neill’s chuckling accompanying them on their way out. Sam cleared her throat, drawing his attention back to her. “Jonas, it’s not meant to be an insult. Jack can’t keep his mouth shut if his life depended on it - ” General Hammond cleared his throat pointedly at the lack of reverence for Major Carter’s commanding office. Sam looked back at him, unimpressed. “Sir, with all due respect, you of all people know I’m only speaking the truth.” Hammond acquiesced with a nod. Sam carried on. “And Teal’c is, well, Teal’c. You can understand how a female led civilization would react poorly interacting with them.” 

Jonas nodded, mollified. “It’s true, I do know the value of listening before acting. I understand.” He looked down at his mission report, bemused. It looked like P3X-844 was going to be a much more interesting mission than he had originally anticipated.

***

“If you’re going to be out in the field, you’re going to need to learn how to defend yourself.” Sam’s tone brooked no argument. Somehow, that didn’t stop Daisy.

“Can’t I just carry around pepper spray? Surely mace is effective against most alien species. I mean, I’ll have a gun; that should be deterrent enough for most things.” Daisy’s tone sounded suspiciously like whining as she eyed the equipment scattered around the gym. It looked like SG-1 had reserved the gym for that hour. Jonas was completing his cool down on the treadmill, Colonel O’Neill was taking on a beat up punching bag, and Teal’c was curling hand weights in the free weights section.

“You will not always have a weapon with which to defend yourself, Doctor Roberts,” said Teal’c, his tone dry. “Major Carter is correct to emphasize the importance of being able to defend yourself without a weapon.”

Daisy scowled at the Jaffa as he blithely returned to his bicep curls, manipulating the 50 pound weights like they were Daisy’s five pound jogging weights. Show off.

“Okay, still. I’m not sure what kind of punches you’re going to teach me, but are they going to make any difference if a six foot tall, three hundred pound Jaffa is bearing down on me? At that point my best bet is to hope it’s all over quick. Maybe I should be practicing that, just .” She turned to the gym’s mirrors and angled her chin experimentally. “Do ya think this is good? Or,” she said, tilting her head the other direction, “this way? I’ve always thought my carotid was more pronounced on this side.”

Sam’s face did something strange, and Jonas realized that she was fighting to hold back a grin. “I’ll eventually teach you some basic combat punches and kicks, but we’re going to start with some more defensive maneuvers. If you have the choice between fight and flight, always choose flight. What we’re going to go over today is what to do if flight doesn’t work out and you get captured. Techniques to break holds and incapacitate a humanoid assailant so you can get away and radio for help. We’ll work on non-humanoid techniques after we’ve got this down.”  
  
“Non-humanoid?” Daisy looked faintly green. “Tell me you guys don’t have to deal with any weird non-humanoid tentacle things out there. The Goa’uld creep me out enough.” 

Sam failed to control her face this time. “I was thinking of replicators, not anything with tentacles,” she said, grinning. 

It was at this point that Jonas decided to chime in. “What about the Unas? Those guys seem like they might have a tentacle or two hidden away somewhere.” 

Sam scowled at him as Daisy retched comically. “They do _not_ have tentacles,” she said. “Jonas, if you have time to haze the newbie you have time to help. Get over here, I need a six foot tall assailant to demonstrate with.”

Grinning, Jonas flipped off the treadmill and trotted over to the sparring mat. “Hey, you’d better not be implying that I’m 300 pounds now. I’ve been working out, slimming down. I’m a trim 170.” 

The look Sam shot him was unimpressed. “I’d never comment on your girlish figure, Jonas, it would be terribly impolite.” Sam ignored Jonas’s mock hurt expression, continuing on cheerfully. “Now, the good news is that with all that armor, Jaffa tend to be top heavy. If one of them approaches you and grabs you from the front, you might be able to hook a leg behind theirs to take advantage of their high center of balance. An accompanying shove to the shoulders might throw him off balance.” Sam demonstrated with Jonas, kicking out his kneecaps. Jonas fought the instinct to dodge, allowing himself to fall to the mat with a thump. “Once he’s down, you can run immediately. If you’ve got a good angle at his groin, give him a good kick. Put all your weight into it, the pain will give you an excellent head start.” 

Jonas shoved away from Sam hurriedly, sliding backwards on the mat. “We will not be doing a live demonstration of that, Carter!” he said, panicked.  
  
Grinning, Sam offered him a hand up. He took it gamely. “You know, Jonas, I’m not feeling your commitment to the realism of this demonstration. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a Jaffa act like such a big baby.”

Jonas sputtered, and Daisy’s laughter echoed through the gym. Maybe combat training wouldn’t be so bad after all. 

***

Later that evening, Jonas was returning to his room on base when a strange thumping noise led him to poke his head into the gym. It was Daisy, headphones in, punching and kicking at a heavy punching bag. While her form was impressive, given that it was her first day in combat training, the force of her blows barely moved the bag. Huffing with exertion, she stopped to readjust the tape on her hands. As she rewrapped her hands, her gaze alighted on Jonas. She popped out a headphone. 

“Oh! Uh, hey. I was just working on some of the stuff Sam taught me today. I’m allowed to be in here, right? The lights were out, but the door wasn’t closed or anything.” 

Jonas smiled reassuringly and stepped into the room. “No, you’re good. It’s just not a popular time to use the gym. Most people have gone home to their families at this hour.” 

Daisy nodded, stretching out first her right arm, then her left. “I just wanted to put a bit more time in. I feel like I spent most of the time this morning watching rather than doing anything, and I’m not comfortable practicing at the shooting range without supervision yet.” 

Jonas smiled. “I thought you weren’t excited about combat training?”

Daisy huffed, blowing her hair out of her eyes ineffectively. “I don’t, but I also don’t half-ass things. If I’m going to do it, I’m going to do it, ya know?” Jonas nodded, understanding. He had the same type of drive. Suddenly, Daisy brightened. “Oh! Hey, since you’re here; mind helping me out? I wanted to practice some of the moves Sam was showing me earlier.”

“Uh, sure,” said Jonas, stripping out of his jacket and tossing it on a weight bench. “Where do you want me?” 

Daisy blinked at him, flushing. “Uhh, here.” She gestured to the sparring mat they’d used earlier, positioning him in the middle. “This is fine, right? So, just grab at me I guess.”

A bruised toe, sore nose, and a near miss where Daisy almost forgot to pull back a kneecap to his groin later, and Daisy was grinning, clearly pleased with herself. “Hey, I might actually be getting good at this!” she said. 

Jonas mock-groaned. “Are you good enough to take someone down yet? I don’t think my poor body can take much more of this. I’m a delicate flower.”

Daisy laughed. “Stop whining, you baby. Now grab my arms and hold still, I want to try that first thing Sam taught me.” 

Jonas snorted “I don’t think the Jaffa are going to hold still for you, Daisy,” he said, putting his hands on her upper arms obediently. 

“Shut up,” she said, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. Suddenly, although he expected it, her leg snaked around his, kicking at the joint. He went down, but something was wrong. Daisy couldn’t disengage her leg fast enough and was toppling over with him. Jonas tried to maneuver them so he didn’t crush her on the mat and ended up flat on his back with the air knocked out of him. Daisy was sprawled on top of him. 

Her body against his was warm from her exertion, her exercise clothing providing little barrier for the heat radiating off her body. They froze, eyes locked on each other. Daisy placed a hand on his shoulder to steady herself, and Jonas’s groin tightened in response.

_What._

“Shit!” she said, scrambling off of him. “Uh, well, I guess I need to work on that one a bit.” She held out a hand to help him up. He took it and hauled himself up, willing his unwanted partial erection to go down. 

“Maybe that’s a sign that we should call it for the evening,” Daisy grinned. “I’m pretty beat. We should do this again sometime, though, it was really helpful.”

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Jonas said distractedly, scrambling to think of something to staunch his arousal. Slimy Goa’ulds. Naked Siler. That one time he face-planted into a sewage pond three missions back. He looked at Daisy, and realized the smile was dropping from her face. Shit, he didn’t want that. “Tomorrow?” he said, before immediately cursing himself. What was he thinking? He needed more time than that to get his shit together.

She brightened. “Tomorrow, same time and place,” she agreed. “I’m going to hit the showers. See you then!”

  
Jonas watched her go, before jerking his gaze away when he caught his eyes lingering on her waist. What the hell was wrong with him? He wiped a hand down his face, exasperated. He’d take a cold shower, he decided, and forget about all of this by tomorrow morning. Everything would go back to normal. It was fine. He was fine.

***

He was dreaming, he knew that. He’d always been able to tell, even if he had no control over the dream. It was something about the way the sharp edges of reality softened in his unconscious mind. He was in the gym, on the ground again. Unlike earlier, his shirt was missing, and his arms were pinned above his head. He craned his head up to look and saw Daisy, tightening the loops around his wrist before tucking the ends under the mat.

She looked up at him and grinned that bright grin of hers. “Too tight?” she asked kindly. Heat pooled in his lower belly. He shook his head numbly, flexing his wrists against the bonds. “Good!” she said, before running her fingernails down the sensitive skin of his tricep. Her keen eyes caught his sharp intake of breath, and she smiled smugly. “Good,” She repeated softly. Idly, she circled a nail around his nipple. “Oh, Jonas,” she breathed, excitement in her eyes. “I’m going to make you beg, darling.”

Jonas jerked awake, aching. He was wound tight, dangerously close to the edge. He swore, palming himself roughly through the thin fabric of his sleep pants. It wasn’t enough. Frustrated, he shoved the waistband down. He gripped himself tightly, the pressure providing relief so intense he moaned aloud. One stroke, then another, root to tip, swirling his thumb around the head. On the third stroke he came, Daisy’s name on his lips, back arching as the orgasm rolled through him.

An eternity later, Jonas came back to himself and rolled out of the mess he’d made of his sheets, sprawling. The sweat cooling on his body, combined with creeping shame, chilled him to the core. ”Goddammit,” he said aloud to the empty room. He was not fine. Absolutely none of this was fine.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jonas accompanies Dr. Roberts, Dr. Frasier, and Dr. Carter onto an alien planet. Maybe he should consider getting a doctorate to match. See notes for content warnings.

Somehow, Jonas got through the daily evening training sessions with Daisy. It helped that he directed her attention away from direct grappling and more toward working on her form while she had someone there to help observe. It also helped that he had taken to reciting _A Brief History of Time_ to himself from memory. Hawking was brilliant, absolutely, and there was the added bonus that scientific philosophy kept his blood in his brain instead of migrating to other places. With Jonas’s help Daisy improved in leaps and bounds. It was only a few weeks before Major Carter cleared her for field duty and the modified team was sent to the locker rooms to prep for off-world travel.

“Does this feel a bit like forced representation to anybody else?” Janet, Sam, and Jonas turned to look at where Daisy was stuffing energy bars in the pockets of her BDUs. 

“Sorry?” said Carter, blinking at Daisy. “I’m not sure I follow.” 

“You don’t?” Daisy’s tone was cheerfully irreverent. “Three women, one man. I just feel like we’re shoehorning in a token male inorganically. It just isn’t realistic.” Sam snorted, and Janet tightened her boot laces to hide her grin. 

Jonas was unimpressed. “I am not a token male!” he protested. “I belong here as much as you do. More! This is your very first mission. I’ve been on dozens. Dozens!”

Daisy slung her pack over her shoulder and sauntered by him, grinning. “Whatever you say, bud. Don’t forget to stand there and look pretty for the viewers at home.” She clapped a hand on his shoulder as she passed, patting patronizingly. 

“Yeah, well, I’m very pretty!” he called after her lamely, ignoring the way the heat from her hand on his shoulder had warmed him from the inside out. He heard Janet snort behind him. Fuck.

Daisy’s easy confidence had worn off by the time they started up the ramp in the Gate Room. She stopped just before the Stargate, eyes round, staring into the event horizon. She tapped it hesitantly. “Are you sure I’m still going to be me on the other side?” she said softly. “I’ve heard this thing pulls you apart to atoms and then puts you back together. What if it gets it wrong? This is like the ship of Theaseus thought experiment but worse, because it’s _me_."

Jonas nodded thoughtfully next to her. “Scary thought. There’s some silver lining, though, if it turns out part of you comes back different”

Daisy looked at him inquiringly.

“I mean, it’s possible you’ll end up with a better sense of humor,” Jonas said cheerfully. “Only one way to find out!” He planted a hand between her shoulders and shoved. Daisy tumbled into the event horizon, yelping. 

Janet, just behind him arched an eyebrow. “Was that really wise?” she said dryly. “We spent a few rotations together. Daisy can have a mean streak, and she’ll want to even the score.” 

Jonas shrugged. “Eh, I think things were getting a little quiet around here anyway.” Grinning at Janet, he stepped through the Stargate after Daisy.

***

 _So much for the natives staying away from the Stargate_ , Jonas thought ruefully, as he eyeballed the variety of weapons now pointed in his direction. They’d hardly been on the planet for five minutes before they had been suddenly and silently surrounded. Dozens of warrior women circled their team. There were a few men too; it looked like they had been carrying the larger polearm weapons so the women could move silently through the brush. As Jonas watched, one of them passed a spear to a woman with a completely shaved head. The woman took it, and then clasped a hand to the back of his neck in apparent thanks.

Jonas stepped forward. “Hello! We’re travelers, we come in peace. We have no wish to harm-”

“Surely you do not have an unaccompanied male among you?” a woman with striking face tattoos demanded, interrupting him. She did not address Jonas. Instead, she spoke to the three women with him. “It is an abomination!” she said, scorn laced through her tone. Jonas gaped. 

Daisy stepped forward, grasping the back of his neck as the female warrior with the spear in hand had done with the man standing subserviently next to her. 

Jonas fought his knee jerk reaction to go boneless in response. Where the hell had that come from? His innate reaction should be defensive, not to crumple, weak in the knees. Something was seriously wrong with him. Ironic that the source of his insanity seemed to be the base psychiatrist.

Daisy was doing damage control. “Our sincerest apologies. We mean no harm to your people or your ways. We are travelers, and our ways are different from yours. If you have the patience to explain, we will do our best to not offend you further.”

The imperious tattooed woman addressed Daisy directly now. “He is your claim?”

Daisy hesitated, and the woman’s eyes narrowed, her grip on her weapon hilt tightening. “Uh, yes,” Daisy said, quickly. “I.. claim him.”

The native warriors relaxed visibly at her words. Jonas suppressed a sigh. This was going to be one weird-ass mission.

***

“Okay, so here’s the situation. Since I, ah, claimed Jonas, and you two don’t have claimed men, they’re under the impression that I’m the figurehead of our group, so to speak.”

Apparently claiming Jonas had been the right thing to do; the warrior women had welcomed Daisy into their society with open arms. They agreed to answer all of Daisy’s questions In exchange for answers to questions of their own, about the Stargate and about Earth.

“Their communes are characterized by co-leadership between a figurehead and a warrior commander,” Daisy continued. “Other skilled women make up their sort of… council. Healers, artisans, shepherds - the best in their trade has a seat at the table. It’s confusing, but it’s the best explanation Sam and I have got so far. The figurehead does the talking, the cultural and spiritual rites and ceremonies. The commander leads the military force, and the council helps form the individual rules of each commune, as well as meeting with other councils to determine the wider laws of the society as a whole. I tried to explain to them that our group didn’t work that way, but it just didn’t seem to mesh with their understanding of the world.”

“I’m pretty sure they’ve got Sam pegged as the commander, which makes sense. I’m betting it’s the biceps. You look _great_ , by the way.” Sam blushed uncharacteristically, while Janet and Jonas hid their smiles. Daisy continued her explanation.

”Men don’t go anywhere unaccompanied, don’t speak unless spoken to, and are always, always claimed. By their mothers or sisters until they are selected as a mate by an adult warrior of the tribe. It looks like they aren’t completely without independence - males must accept a claim for it to be final. However, males must always be around the woman who claimed him, or one of her delegates.”

“I feel like a piece of meat,” Jonas complained. 

Sam scoffed at him. “My heart bleeds for you, really,” she said to Jonas. “Really. I have no idea how hard this must be for you.”

Jonas placed a hand over his heart. “That hurts, Major. Right here, it really does.”

Daisy cleared her throat. “If we can get back to the matter at hand, please?” she said patiently.

Jonas flushed, his ears red. “Yes ma’am.” Sam shot him a look at that, eyebrows raised. He shook his head at her, praying that she would drop it. The last thing he needed was Carter teasing about his stupid crush. Judging by the look on her face, however, she’d be giving him the third degree later. Dammit. 

“They’ve got a sort of meeting of the minds tonight. It’s something they do weekly, and is apparently a very important cultural rite. I think it’s a great opportunity for us to gain their trust. They tell stories, break bread together. We’ve all been invited.” She paused, and looked at Jonas. “You have, too, but I’m not sure you’re going to like it.”

Jonas sighed. He hadn’t liked much since he came here. P3X-844 sucked.

***

“You have got to be kidding me,” Jonas hissed in Daisy’s ear as they entered the room. A few of the native women looked their way sharply. Daisy’s hand snapped up and grabbed him by the back of the neck again. Fuck, she had to stop doing that without warning. 

“Shut _up_ ,” she hissed back, her tone low. “You cannot be seen as arguing with me. We’re trying to gain their trust, not get kicked out. I warned you about this, didn’t I?”

He turned his face to look at her. Mistake. Her hand was still gripping the back of his neck, and the expression on her face was turning his legs to jelly. “I did,” he said, quieter. The native women who had looked at them slowly began to return to their previous tasks. “I just didn’t think it’d be so… Look, I’ll handle it. I’m sorry.”

Her expression softened. “I know this is hard, Jonas,” she said, releasing her grip on his neck. He did his best to avoid outwardly showing how much it affected him. Daisy sighed, and patted his cheek absently. “It’s just for tonight. We’ll be able to return to the gate in a few hours, and we can arrange for an all female group so you don’t need to deal with this anymore.”

Jonas ignored the way his brain catalogued exactly how her hand had felt on his cheek. “I’ve got this,” he said firmly. “I’m cool. I can do this.”

Daisy searched his gaze for a moment before nodding and setting off into the room. Jonas was glad that the aura of easy confidence he was desperately trying to project was covering the edge of hysteria that had been steadily leaking into his thoughts since they arrived on this planet. 

They made their way to the area that had been allotted to them. Three chairs, cushy and inviting, waited for the women. For Jonas, there was a plush cushion, the source of his earlier protesting. It was set just in front of and to the side of the middle chair. Regarding the room and other claimed men, he saw that he was expected to kneel on it. Christ, his poor knees. At 30, his body had begun to send him the bill for the reckless things he had done in his young adulthood. He hoped fervently that this meeting of the minds wouldn’t take too long, or his joints may never recover. 

As the women took their places in the chairs set aside for them, Jonas gingerly knelt on the cushion. It was pleasantly springy, and if he sat on his heels he could almost pretend to be comfortable. 

At the front of the room, two women sat on a raised dais with two claimed men of their own. He recognized one of them from the trio they met earlier, the woman with the intricate tattoos on her face. As he watched, the woman he had yet to meet arose and strode forward. She approached a small table placed in front of the chairs at the center of the dais. On the table was a bowl of what appeared to be some sort of fine powder. She pulled something from the folds of her robe and struck it together. _Flint and steel_ , he realized, as sparks alit on the powder. The powder caught, and heavily scented smoke rose into the air. _And incense_.

The woman bowed to the room, and beckoned her claimed male forward. He rose gracefully, head bowed, and walked over to the table. Jonas realized there was a cushion near the incense table as well just before the man knelt on it. He picked up a palm fan that must have been leaning against the backside of the table and slowly began to waft the incense, spreading the scent around the room. Jonas fought the urge to sneeze. Whatever the powder was, that stuff was seriously powerful.

The regal woman returned to her chair, inclined her head, and said “Begin.” her voice rich and powerful in the stillness of the room. Instantly, conversation erupted. Some women stayed sitting, but many women moved around the room, talking animatedly. Their claimed men stayed kneeling on the cushions provided to them. Some seemed to be meditating, eyes closed and body relaxed.

Several women departed from their chairs to approach Sam, Janet, and Daisy, curiosity in their eyes. Nobody acknowledged him, or even looked at him. Distantly, he heard them begin to pelt Sam, Janet, and Daisy with questions that the woman answered and returned. Jonas took a deep breath, examining the scent of the incense. What the hell was this stuff? It was heavy and sweet, with a biting spice that coated the back of his throat. For how heavy it is, it wasn’t terribly unpleasant. He parted his lips, breathing deeply. He could practically taste it on his tongue. 

Jonas rolled his shoulders, stretching out his neck. All in all, this wasn’t as uncomfortable as he thought it would be. The air was warm and perfumed, comfortable like a sauna in a spa. The cushion felt spongy and soft against his knees when he shifted his weight. His eyelids grew heavy and he let them fall closed. He didn’t need to keep them open. The women could handle this. Janet and Sam were some of the most capable people he knew, and Daisy seemed to be handling herself very well.

Daisy.

Thinking of her heated his blood. There was something about her blindingly bright smile, the curve of her waist. The way it felt to have her body pressed against his own at the gym, heated skin flush against his. 

He let his head loll back, content. Daisy was the best. She would handle everything, maybe even handle him if he was really good. He wanted to be so good for her. Maybe he’d ask her how he could be good for her, when they got back to base. Maybe she’d want to tie him up like she had in his dream. That would be nice. He would be so, so good for her.

“Jonas?” Daisy’s voice cut through his daze. “You doing alright there, buddy?”

“Hmmm?” Jonas replied, brain foggy. “ ‘m good, Daisy. Just smells real nice here.” He cracked an eye open, looking back at her lazily. “It‘s good.”

Daisy smiled at him, but her eyes were worried. “We can get out of here if you need some air?” she offered, her tone quietly concerned.

He blinked both eyes open and turned to face her more directly. He hated the worry in her voice. He was fine. She didn’t need to worry about helping him, he was there to help her. He cleared his throat and tried to sound less dopey. “I’m fine, Daisy. Really. I’m good. I can be good.” He bit back the rest of the sentence: I can be good for you, Daisy. He didn’t want to scare her. That wouldn’t be good, and it was very important that he be good for her right now. 

Daisy regarded him carefully, and then nodded hesitantly. “Okay, Jonas. I’ll trust you. Just let me know if you need to go, okay?” She leaned forward and squeezed his shoulder comfortingly. It felt like nirvana.

“Mmkay, Daisy,” he said, rolling his shoulder under the blissful pressure of her hand and settling back on his heels more deeply. “I’ll be good right here” he said, working to enunciate clearly. Her expression tightened, but she released him and settled back into her chair, returning to her conversation with the women of the commune. Good, he thought, closing heavy lidded eyes. She would handle that. He could handle kneeling for her for as long as she needed.

***

Some time later Jonas noticed the ambient noise of the conversations surrounding him winding down. It could have been hours, it could have been minutes. Jonas had lost track of time in the warm, hazy room. He opened his eyes groggily, stretching out his spine. Most of the chairs had emptied, and several of the kneeling pads were empty as well. He guessed that the women had left, taking their claimed men with them. Only a few remained, exchanging a few last parting words with the other members of his team. Eventually, they left, and only members of his team remained.

“Jonas, it’s about time to go. You’ve been kneeling for a while, let me help you up.” It was Daisy, suddenly in front of him, right in his personal space. He smiled up at her, basking. The tight bun she’d placed her hair in that morning had loosened drastically, and he found that he liked the way her loosely bound hair looked framing her face. Daisy offered her his hand and he stood, carefully. He stumbled a big, his legs heavy from the extended time on his knees. “Oops,” he said, and giggled. 

Sam and Janet turned to him, alarmed expressions matching the one currently gracing Daisy’s face. “Jonas?” She said, her tone even more concerned than earlier. “You sound drugged, buddy. You doing okay?”

“What are you talking about?” he said, laughing. “I feel great!” Jonas stretched, luxuriously. “I feel like I just took a year long nap.” 

Janet and Daisy exchanged glances, and Janet pulled a pen light out of her pocket. She shined it in his eyes, one and then the other, her brow creased in concern. She then moved on to Sam and Daisy, who obediently let her check them as well.

“His pupils are dilated, far outside the range of what would be normal for the ambient light. It seems like he is drugged; I just don’t know what he could have gotten into. We were all right here, and we’re all fine.” Janet took his wrist in her hand, checking his pulse, worrying her lower lip between her teeth as she did so. 

Jonas pulled his arm back. “Hey, doc, I’m fine. No need to worry. Peak condition right here,” he said, and then took a step. He nearly stumbled again, but righted himself with some effort. He took a few more steps, experimental. He was unsteady, but fully capable of ambulatory movement. “See? I’m fine.”

The women exchanged glances. “He’s feverish,” said Janet. “And his pulse is going crazy.”

Sam walked to Jonas and pulled his arm around her shoulders, supporting him. Huh. That was a bit easier than trying to walk on his own. Major Carter was so nice.

“Let’s get him back to the gate,” Sam said, grimly. “We need to get this checked out before his symptoms worsen.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jonas gets whammied by sex pollen, but he doesn't do anything he didn't consent to when he wasn't pollen'd, aside from act like a dope.

**Author's Note:**

> Stargate SG-1 Fanfic? In the year of our lord 2020? Focused around a character that was only around for one and a half seasons?
> 
> Yeup, we really do be out here tho.


End file.
